


Kiss And Make Up

by xenowhore



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Violence, War Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenowhore/pseuds/xenowhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’d do anything, anything - he’d ride the Coupe blazing into Buzzard territory with a grenade in his lap - if Slit asked him to in that voice. He’d forsake Valhalla if only to feel Slit’s hands on him, there, where he never knew he needed it until now."</p><p>Nux and Slit have a scrap, but all's well that ends well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss And Make Up

This is my first Nux/Slit fic. I'm so obsessed with these two that I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind, ha! Please be gentle :) Comments are GREATLY appreciated.

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“Shit!” Nux ducked his head as the wrench flew past him and into a dozen or so empty barrels of guzzoline. A tremendous clang and they tumbled over and rolled across the floor, dribbling the precious last drops of their cargo in a slow circle. From behind him, Slit stood with chest heaving, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Nux had never seen him look so enraged in all their days together as Driver and Lancer. He swallowed past a lump of nervousness in his throat and tried to sound pissed; “Hell, Slit. What was that?!”

As far as days went in the wasteland, today had been a terrible one.

Nux knew what was bothering Slit, what had him so riled up and ready to throttle anyone or anything that pressed him. It wasn’t a stubborn lug nut, though he wished it were that simple. Nux himself still couldn’t get the image of Pistons ruined body out of his mind. The tangled mess of blood and bone and flesh, bent at impossible angles and missing crucial components, was a picture that would be flashed burned into Nux’s memory until the day he ascended to Valhalla. A War Boy he had grown up with. Slept side by side with in the pits when they were pups. Gone, crushed like so much pulp under the wheels of The Peacemaker. He wiped a hand over his face and lifted his eyes to Slit. Yes, today was a terrible day, but at least it wasn’t his Lancer they’d brought back to the Citadel, broken and gone. At least he hadn’t been Crow, who refused to leave the body for hours as it cooled and the rest of the War Boys pretended they weren’t watching.

At least there was that.

“The fuck you looking at?” Slit muttered as he slithered back under The Coupe, his brief moment of rage apparently passed. Nux didn’t take the tone to heart - he knew Slit, and just as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow he knew this wasn’t personal. He went to retrieve the wrench from between the barrels and walked back to the car, holding it out to him. “Nothin’.” He held the wrench easily in his hand, waiting, his boots visible to Slit from under the vehicle. A moment passed before a white hand appeared, palm flat, fingers stained with grease. Nux laid the wrench in his hand and sat down on one of the benches. 

“Why am I under here anyway?” Slit growled. Nux looked at his boots as he mulled over how best to answer. “I’m not the fuckin’ Black Thumb here.”

“You _wanted_ to be under there today, workin’” Nux replied carefully. “burn off some stress. Remember?”

A shuffle and Slit poked his face out. “Yeah, I fucking _remember_.” he spit the word. Nux held his hands up in surrender. Fierce eyes glittered from under a forehead of black warpaint as Slit regarded him for a moment. “Ain’t doing a whole lot of good though.” he eventually mumbled, his eyes casting angrily about the room. Looking everywhere but at his Driver's face. Slit belonged in the Lancer’s Perch, his brute strength and complete lack of fear suited him to the task. Outside in the suffocating air while the sand pelted his face like a million tiny knives. Nux was all fine lines and finesse, nimble hands that held a wheel, not a Lancer Grenade. Together they were one of the most highly regarded teams in the Citadel, a seamless combination that became a perfect machine out on the roads. Efficient, terrifying, and a little batshit. It had taken them years of their already diminishing Half Life to get to this point. Nux’s throat tightened as he thought of Piston again.

“Did you see Crows face?” he whispered. He picked up a grease rag from the bench and began twisting it in his hands, worrying it. “He looked right shattered.”

Under the car, Slit’s body stilled. “Quit talkin’ about it.” he warned, his voice low.

“Never thought…” Nux trailed off as Slit came out glaring from under the Coupe. He rose to his feet beside Nux, his jaw clenched around a mouthful of angry words. Nux looked up at him and his eyes fell on the stapling around his Chelsea grin as the skin twitched in anger. 

“Never thought what? That a comrade would die in front of you? That’s war, Nux!” he snarled.

Nux stood up and narrowed his eyes, embarrassed about his momentary show of weakness. “Shit, I know it’s War. Not an idiot.” he rubbed a hand around the back of his neck.

“You sure fuckin’ act like one sometimes.” 

“What’s your problem?” Nux narrowed his eyes. “All day long you’ve been throwing shit around and acting like a total asshole.” He ignored the murderous look on Slit’s face as he pressed on. “Just about fucking _ruined_ the Coupe, pretending like you’re some seasoned Black Thu--”

Stars burst in front of Nux’s eyes as his head snapped back. Pain exploded like a firework inside his skull and he staggered, clutching at his jaw, dropping to a knee. Blood dripped between his fingers where he held his hand to his face, and he blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear his vision. In their years together as a bonded pair there had been a fair share of scraps. It was part of life in the Citadel for the War Boys and Nux was no stranger to the taste of blood in the back of his throat. Still. Being punched by Slit was a little bit like running as fast as you could face first into a brick wall. 

Slit actually had the grace to look a tad sorry, but it wasn’t enough to cancel out the rage that had been stoking coals beneath his skin all day. He leveled a single finger in Nux’s direction. “Nuts…” he paused, shook his head and barked out a humorless laugh. “I swear to V8, you want me to murder y--”

Now they were both on the floor, Nux having shoved Slit hard, coming down on top of him. Slit outweighed his Driver by a good fifty pounds but Nux was the taller of the two and had always had the faster reflexes. They served him well now as he swiftly sat on Slit’s chest and pinned the bigger man’s arms down with his knees. “You’re rust!” he shouted into his face, blood from his split lip dripping flecks onto Slit’s chest. “You soft ---” he struggled to hold the thrashing Lancer down. “piece of shit--!”

Slit surged up and Nux toppled. He easily rolled them, turning the tables in his favor as he grabbed Nux by the shoulders and slammed him against the stone floor. He loomed over him, pinning Nux’s throat with his forearm, pressing down against him with his bulk. “Shut! _Up_!” he hissed, watching Nux thrash ineffectually beneath him. The Driver’s scarred lips pulled into a tight grimace and he turned his head to the side, spit blood once. Glared back into Slit’s face as his chest heaved and he breathed hard out his nose. 

Minutes ticked by as the two glared daggers at one another. Finally, Slit eased his arm slowly off of Nux and sat up, leaning back on his haunches. The sound of their angry breathing was the only sound in the empty V8 room. “You’re an ass.” Nux muttered into the silence, his pride more wounded than his face. 

“And you never know when to shut up.” Slit fired back, but the malice was gone from his expression. “Nux... _I told you_.” he sounded exasperated and pressed the butt of his palm against his forehead. It smudged the black war paint. “Needed a distraction today. I can’t…” he seemed to struggle to find the next words. “I can’t think about this shit right now.”

Nux sat up on his elbows. “Didn’t mean it about you being a shit mechanic.” his voice quiet. He tried to catch Slit’s eyes with his own. “I mean, we all know who’s better, but Hell, I know you wouldn’t do bad by the Coupe.”

“Shut up. Quit apologizin’.” Slit looked down at Nux and his face crumpled. “Fuck, man. Now you’re even uglier.” it was as close to an apology as Nux was going to get. He took it, grinning in spite of the insult and the pain. “I think I lost a goddamn tooth, you prick.” he leaned sideways and dug around in his mouth with an index finger and Slit laughed. A rush of emotion coursed through Nux at the sound. _Alright, yeah. We’re OK now._

Unspoken words hung heavy in the air between the two War Boys and it was felt keenly by them both. Death was a regular part of everyday life at the Citadel, but this...Piston and Crow. Crow’s anguish that was quietly respected by all the Boys and Pups, the Boys because they had unbreakable bonds of their own that were forged in literal blood, and by the Pups who knew their day would come soon. It happened, you grieved, you moved on. Bullets and guzzoline always needed to be farmed. Territory needed to be protected. None of it came without cost. War Boys willingly and fearlessly gave their lives for their Immortan every day. Valhalla was the highest calling, the highest honor. It was all that a War Boy wished for. And yet…

Nux’s heart broke for Slit, for the pain he knew he was going through. Piston and Slit had always been close. Before Nux had claimed the Lancer as his own in the bonding ritual, he had recognized him as the War Boy who could always be counted on to be at Piston’s side. Whether in the mess hall, in the V8 room, the corridors of the Citadel. Nux expected to feel jealousy when he teamed with Slit but Piston and Crow were soon paired shortly after, and the friendship dimmed in the face of their new lives. It was the way the bond worked. Slit still spoke affectionately of him and they would scuffle and joke amicably in passing, but Nux knew beyond a shred of doubt that he was Slit’s. His Driver. The warm body in the bunk beside him at night. The one who held his mangled face between his Black Thumb hands and gently tended to the stitches in his mouth.

_What the fuck would I do without you._

Nux swallowed hard, pushing breath out shakily. Now or never. “You’re my Lancer.” he said softly. “The best, the shiniest. The most chrome.” He reached out to slowly smooth his thumb over a smear of blood on Slit’s hip that had landed on him during their scuffle. Like a lizard being spotted by an eagle, Slit’s entire body tensed as still as stone. Nux caught his gaze and held his breath for what seemed like an eternity. Then, with a speed that belied his size, Slit seized Nux’s wrist in his hand and yanked him forward, holding him still. Eyes blacker than war paint bored into his. “Nux, what --” he rasped, and the next words died in his throat as Nux put his thumb in his mouth and slowly sucked the blood off it. 

Slit made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh and he watched, transfixed, as Nux worried his tongue over the digit. He released it with a wet pop and licked his scarred lips, never taking his eyes from the Lancer. “You even _taste_ shiny.” Nux whispered, and Slit had no words for that, no words at all, only a desperate roll of his hips.

Suddenly everything was on fire. Nux felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room as Slit wrapped an arm under his shoulders and pulled him up against him, slanting his mouth over his, again and again. _Glory_. Nux whimpered into the kiss, his tongue a blade that cut a desperate path. He could feel the staples, the uneven bumps inside Slit’s cheeks, and as he ran his tongue over them Slit bucked in his lap and grabbed Nux’s jaw with his hand, hard, tilting his head as he growled low in his throat. 

“Tell me what you want, Slit, Slit. _Tell me_ \--”

“ _Shut up_.” 

Nux let his head fall back against the cold stone as Slit began mouthing his way down his body. The scrape of teeth were everywhere - tugging an earlobe, sliding down his neck. His skin cooled where air hit saliva and he could feel his nipples pebble, a development that wasn’t lost on Slit, who sucked one into his mouth and bit down, palming the other. Nux moaned low in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut, panting, as Slit hummed against his skin. “ _Shit_. Y-yeah, Slit, that’s good, th--”

“I told you to be quiet.” Slit rumbled, and Nux widened his eyes and whined disgracefully as Slit slid two fingers into his mouth. “Suck.” he commanded, and Nux closed his eyes and slid his tongue up and down, all at once tasting motor oil and war clay and sweat. _Slit_. He’d do anything, anything - he’d ride the Coupe blazing into Buzzard territory with a grenade in his lap - if Slit asked him to in that voice. He’d forsake Valhalla if only to feel Slit’s hands on him, _there_ , where he never knew he needed it until now. 

Hands on his belt, tugging and slipping and unbuckling. Nux lifted his hips, helping, and Slit laughed breathlessly at his eagerness. “You want it bad, don’t you?” his voice was an octave lower, rasping the way it did when they’d spent a day on the dunes - Slit’s grin splitting his face the way it so famously did, fine cracks like veins through his war clay from the beating sun - shouting war cries. Nux raised himself on his shaking elbows and watched as Slit pried his boots off and yanked his pants down, shoving them into a corner. Then, deft hands lifted his legs up onto broad shoulders and _oh fuck, oh glory_ , Slit swallowed him in one pull.

There was no tenderness. Slit didn’t take his time. He was savage, all hands and tongue and grabbing, _bruising_ , his fingers digging into Nux’s slender hips in a way that made Nux feel like he was being marked. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he just bucked his hips helplessly and felt his cock at the back of Slit’s throat. Slit swallowed around him thickly, straining forward, one hand pumping what he couldn’t take and the other kneading into flesh. It was chrome and shine, V8, Aqua Cola. It was Valhalla, the Coupe’s worn leather enfolding his body. It was the roar of Doof’s guitar in his ears, heralding him onward, calling, calling --

Nux came with a cry, his fingers digging into Slit’s shoulders as spasms rocked his body. His feet dug trenches in the war clay on Slit’s back and he shook, trembled. An engine fire was roaring through his veins, he was sure of it. He felt Slit chuckle around the length of him, peppering his stomach, his thighs, everywhere - _shhh_ \- gentling him through it as he babbled wordlessly. He had hardly recovered before Slit was standing, hauling him up with both hands. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot a cocky, shit-eating smirk at Nux before he yanked him hard against his chest and crushed his mouth against his. Nux tasted himself in the kiss and tried to ignore the way his legs shook, the way his heartbeat thundered like a war drum in his head when Slit sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and _bit_. He broke the kiss, sucking in air. “Slit, let me -- “ his hands sought out solid muscles hardened by War Boy life, and he stroked, scratched, pulled. “I want…”

Slit cut him off, grabbing Nux’s hips and walking them backward. Nux felt cool metal touch the back of his legs, it was the Coupe, and the wiring in his brain short circuited when he realized what Slit was about to do. Slit spun him, effectively pinning him between the vehicle and the solid mass of his chest. Nux’s hands shot out and grabbed the door frame, steadying himself. He could hear Slit’s ragged breathing behind him, his thick, blunt fingers tracing slowly over Nux’s hips in the first tender, unhurried touch so far. “Slit,” Nux panted, pushing himself back against the straining cock in Slit’s pants. “What’re you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view.” Slit drawled slowly, his voice a purring V8, and Nux’s toes curled against the stone, a tremble travelling up his spine at the lust in his Lancer’s voice. Then it was the sound of buckles, rustling clothing, and two spit slick fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh and pushing, spreading, and he was biting down on the wail that threatened to claw its way out of his throat. He snaked a hand down and squeezed his cock as Slit - _oh Glory, shine, yes_ \- pushed himself inside, inch by inch, breathing hot and fast against Nux’s back. They stilled, Nux grasping himself at the base and squeezing his eyes shut as a bead of sweat pooled above his lip. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t make sense of up or down or _anything_ as Slit began to slowly pump inside of him, drawing his length out languidly with a roll of his hips and snapping back. Their flesh smacked wetly together, the steel of the Coupe’s chassis protesting as Slit set a punishing rhythm, unrelenting in his need, his desperation. 

Nux gasped as Slit bent over him and found the skin where neck met shoulder, and he kneened, grinding his hips, eyes rolling in his head as he felt skin give way to teeth. “Fuck!” he shouted, fingers digging into the frame through the Coupe’s drivers side window. Slit laved his tongue, soothing, and then his face was pressing hard against the side of Nux’s, their mouths open and breathing the same hot, thin air. Snaking a hand between them, he pressed his thumb into the weeping slit of Nux’s cock, and that was it. He pushed Nux forward and ground against him, hard, chest to back, eyes closed and mouth open in a silent cry as he came. Nux felt heat, so much heat -- Furiosa’s War Rig baking in the dunes, a Gastown Firecar, burning sand and molotov grenades. All his Half Life a lie, because Valhalla wasn’t on Fury Road. It was here, right here, like this -- sweat and blood, teeth and tongue, his Lancer. His. 

Slit gathered Nux’s boneless body in his arms and they slid down the side of the Coupe together, legs giving out, Nux against Slit’s chest. For a moment, the only sounds in the room was their breathing and the constant wind as it travelled through the Citadel corridors. Nux laid his head back and closed his eyes, riding out the aftershocks as his muscles twitched and protested. “Damn, Slit. I’m sure gonna be sore tomorrow.”

He was sure it would get a laugh, at least one of Slit’s customary annoyed snorts, but there was no response. He tried to turn his head but Slit wouldn’t let him. He held him fast, tight, his chin on top of the taller boys head in a role reversal of how they usually slept. It was then that Nux felt a wetness on his shoulder, and realized that Slit was shaking against him, his fiercely strong forearms holding on as though Nux was his lifeline, his Lancer’s perch. 

“Are,” Nux paused, a quiet disbelief in his voice; “are you…?”

“Fuck no.” Slit’s reply was too fast, clipped, his voice betraying his words. “I ain’t a bitch.”

Nux didn’t say anything at first. He shifted against him, revelling in the feeling of their clay melding together. The sweat drying on their bodies, the warmth that always radiated from Slit like a furnace. He brought his hands up and held onto Slit’s forearms. “I know.” he finally said, comforting. “It’s just...Piston. Right?” he tensed, nervous to say the wrong thing. 

At this, Slit laughed. The sound was choked and strained, abruptly halting in the air between them like the note of a War Boy trapped in a night fever. “Shit, Nuts, you really can be a fucking tool you know.” but the words were fond, and Nux was confused, scared. Slit didn’t cry. Slit never bullshit, never minced words, never went back on them - Slit, the fiercest Lancer in the Citadel. Naked and vulnerable and saying words to Nux that he never thought he’d hear in all his Half Life.

“What then?” and he hated that his voice was a whisper.

“It ain’t Piston. It never was.” Slit turned Nux in his arms and wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together. Nux wouldn’t breathe, wouldn’t miss a word. “It just. It made me think about shit, you know? I don’t…” and now he paused, and Nux watched his mouth turn down at the corners and his brow furrow, frustration and maybe even a bit of fear in his expression.

_sayitsayitsayitsayit_

“I don’t know what the fuck I’d do if you went without me.” he mumbled, and Nux held onto Slit’s neck with both hands, their faces pressing together now. “Valhalla ain’t chrome if you’re not gonna be there.”

“Then I won’t go.” he said, so quickly, nodding against Slit’s forehead. Slit lifted his eyes and a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Fuck you aren’t - how many times have I had to save your sorry ass?” and Nux laughed, happiness a storm in his ribcage. 

They sat there like that, face to face, calm and content in the silence. Nux knew this moment would pass, and Slit would eventually get up and get dressed and go back to being the same hot headed prick he was ninety percent of the time. But for now…

He laced his fingers with Slits. “You’re my Valhalla.” he said, and broke out into a grin. 

Slit groaned and pulled him flush against him once more. “I knew this was a mistake.” chiding.

“You’re such a shit.”

“And you’re such a fuckhead.”

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ fuckhead.” 

And Nux thought he was in Valhalla already when Slit answered, so quietly, “Yeah, you are.”


End file.
